


The Price of Potential

by Thunderclash



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderclash/pseuds/Thunderclash
Summary: This scene is placed shortly after Sins of the Wreckers. It explores Springer's character development after what happened in the Noisemaze, and how he might be dealing with what happened there. He goes back to the scene of the crime looking for more clues of what happened to Stakeout. Instead, he finds a surprise.This drabble is what I call a character sketch. It takes a brief moment in time to really explore a character's mind. It's to help me gear up for a multi-chapter fic I am planning, but if you happen to enjoy it, too, all the better!





	The Price of Potential

Crunch, groan, crack. Springer edged out onto the ice, ignoring the sound of impending collapse. Splashes of bright pink, energon spilled during the battle against Carnivac and the Maximals, stained the white snow. He had to ease around deep gouges left by Tidal Wave's claws as he hauled himself from the sea's depths, and climb over mounds of snow used to fortify Impactor's and Kup's makeshift trenches.

The wind shrieked, urging on the snowstorm that would finally bury the energon, the gouges, the trenches. Fat snowflakes drifted down from the overcast sky. Springer lifted his helm and listened to the wind's keening, gritting his dentals with characteristic determination. “I'm coming, Stakeout, I'm coming,” he muttered in answer.

The former Wrecker's Commander slid to a stop once he reached the edge of the ice. He looked down at the churning surf and closed his optics. The roar of the waves, the salty tang of seawater, the emptiness of the ocean's depths. This was the new shape of his dreams: gray under a red sky. No matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to chase the images from his brain module.

With considerable reluctance, Springer pried open his optics and continued on. While this place may be the shape of his dreams, there was one urge that was yet stronger. He remembered how Verity's eyes glistened with unshed tears whenever she spoke of Stakeout and the second chance he had never received. Even after everything, Springer could not resist feeling needed, and now he sensed another chance to be just that.

It had only been a few days since Springer had sworn this life away. Yet, here he was. The former Wrecker's Commander crawled forwards on his hands and knees, looking as undignified as he ever had, and gently brushed aside handfuls of snow as he searched. Anything would do. A fragment of Stakeout's armor, his weapon, or (if Springer was truly lucky) the corpse itself.

Verity needed the chance to bid farewell; Stakeout needed to be buried with dignity. If Springer was being at all honest with himself, he would have realized he needed this, too. Pova, Garrus-9, and now the Noisemaze. The weight of his guilt grew harder to bear with each passing mission. Stakeout's voice was just another in a long line he heard begging for help when he settled in for recharge each night.

Moan. The ice gave one final cry of protest before it too gave way under the weight of Springer's guilt. “Gah!” he screamed, struggling for purchase, but it was already too late. Springer started to sink beneath the waves.

The gray rushed to consume him, a cold so deep that his sensors flared with pain. Springer lashed out: arms flailing, legs kicking, mouth opening to let out a battle cry. Instead, saltwater rushed into his intake. The warrior sputtered at the salty taste. It was enough, however, to bring him back to the moment. The only enemy here was invisible, the phantoms of his own brain module. It should be easy enough to pull himself back to the surface and continue on with the search.

Taking a moment to calm his spinning brain module, Springer stilled and allowed himself to float. His optics probed the gray depths. Was this truly so bad as the shape of his dreams? It was still, lifeless, harmless. He was alon-

It was already too late by the time Springer noticed the black form barreling towards him. He reached for his weapon, the drag of the water slowing his movements. Possibilities danced through his mind: another Maximal, Tarantulas, perhaps even Stakeout himself? None made sense, but it did not stop the thoughts from coming.

Springer twisted around in an attempt to face the creature, now grasping his sword, but it moved with such grace and ease through the water that he didn't stand a chance. He felt its slick hide rub along the length of his shin, but by the time he glanced down it had darted away once more. This kept on for several seconds, the creature always one step ahead, before it finally came to a stop just feet from Springer's faceplates.

Bright, black eyes watched Springer with curiosity. He was not certain what the humans called this native animal, a question he would have to ask Verity later (and she would answer with Seal), but he fixed the details in his mind's optic. Its body was long and thick: hairless, but covered in a thick gray hide that must shield it from the chill. It propelled itself through the water with two flippers and a tail. The animal rolled over on its back, whiskers twitching, before it resumed its playful chase.

While its actions seemed harmless enough, Springer could not let down his guard. There was still the possibility this could be a Maximal, however minimal. Besides, he was a little taken aback. From the glimpse he had caught of the creature, he had noticed something grasped in its mouth: a hand.

Springer resumed his clumsy attempts to face the seal, his sword ever-at-the-ready. It seemed to be having a good time with the chase, staying just out of reach as it slipped between, around, behind, above. Just as Springer was becoming frustrated, though, and trying to think of a new plan the seal finally loosened its grip on the object in its mouth. 

Springer reached out to snag it before the hand disappeared in the ocean's murky depths. Flakes of dried energon and paint peeled off the dismembered body part and floated, suspended, in the water. As he pulled it close to his faceplates, Springer could see where the seal's sharp teeth had punctured exposed tubes and lines. The navy-blue armor that remained had been crumpled by an unimaginable force. The cut that had severed the hand from the rest of its frame, though, appeared clean. Purposeful, even.

There was no doubt left in Springer's brain module. This was Stakeout's hand, which could only mean one thing. The former Wrecker twisted around again, unwilling to leave himself open to the Maximal's attack, but he only met a wall of gray. The seal had made use of Springer's distraction to slip away.

Somewhere, beyond the reach of Springer's sensors, the seal finally came to a stop to deliver its report. ::Mission complete, Carnivac. But I have to ask, what was so special about the prisoner th-::

Carnivac's answer was abrupt. ::Don't ask.::


End file.
